


red is a romantic color | tumblr prompt

by hatedsoup



Series: tumblr prompts [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Pining, Tumblr Prompt, Valentine's Day, jace loves maia very much, jaia, maia also loves jace very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 13:25:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15535227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatedsoup/pseuds/hatedsoup
Summary: The big bundle of red roses that are tucked underneath his arm don’t go unnoticed, and she feels like the world’s biggest asshole for accusing him of sleeping with everyone in Brooklyn, when he was so clearly just on a mission.Oh man, was she /that/ girl after all?When he flashes her that crooked smile of his, she starts to think that she is, because it’s only then that she remembers how to breathe.





	red is a romantic color | tumblr prompt

**Author's Note:**

> oncemoreunderthestars on tumblr asked: 
> 
> "Hey there Stranger! (; Can you write maybe some Jaia + “Whoa! Whoa! Look at Mr. Popular with all the roses!” as a prompt? It reminds me of Jaia a lot. :')"

_Crash!_

Maia growls out a string of incoherent noises, mentally flipping off whoever-the-hell it was that came up with the  _ingenious_  idea of making things from glass. The heat of a blush prickles her cheeks, because she knows everyone is looking at her. If the loud crash hasn’t caught their attention by now, then her little freak-out probably does the trick.

She ducks into the back room to fetch the broom, and when she emerges, she quickly sweeps up the shards that litter the space behind the counter. How embarrassing. This was her third accident today, and she wants to die. Or hide in the storage closet. Whatever works best.

Maia’s not clumsy.

She’s alert and attentive, especially during work. Dropping things? That was more Bat’s or Simon’s territory. Not her’s.

A Seelie in the corner snickers into his over-sized glass of his whiskey, causing Maia to shoot him a dirty look. She also makes good use of her middle finger too, but the guy laughs harder. She’s over all of this.

As much as she hates to admit it, her bad mood and lack of attention is Jace’s fault.

Maia never wants to be the kind of girl who can’t function straight whenever her boyfriend doesn’t text her 24/7. Not that Jace is her boyfriend per se, because he isn’t, and she’s not that girl. 

She  _loathes_  that girl. 

But it’s like Jace had just dropped off the face of the Earth or something.

It’s been a whole week since the last time he called her, and if she didn’t know Jace any better, she could easily let it go.

Maia does know him though. 

He always texts first, and it’s always around six. That’s when he wakes up to get in some extra exercise. She knows this because he never fails to send her a shirtless selfie of his abs. He then normally proceeds to say something completely inappropriate or so stupidly adorable that Maia  _has_  to roll her eyes. Then it’s her turn to respond no later than two hours with her own witty comeback, or if she’s in the mood, something equally inappropriate. 

It’s an unofficial schedule that  manifested between them, but over the past few months she’s become dependent on it, using Jace’s humor as a way to get herself through the day.

So despite her annoyance, this whole week has been taxing.

And to make things worse? Today is Valentine’s Day.

It’s not like Maia expects Jace to ride in on a big, white horse, singing a ballad to her while doves flap their wings behind him. Obviously. This is  _Jace_. 

She’s not even sure she wants anything at all, really. After all, they aren’t together. He has no obligation to her whatsoever. He could be out sleeping with every other girl in the whole state of New York for all she cares.

But a phone call would be nice? Maybe even a quick,  _Hey,I’m not dead. You’re pretty. Happy Valentine’s Day._

Was that too much to ask?

Calling him first crosses her mind…for about ten seconds. Then she remembers that she doesn’t want him to think she cares, or that she misses him. He could get the wrong idea about her. About them. He might start to think that she wants them to be a thing.

She doesn’t.  

Maia Roberts absolutely, one-hundred percent, does  _not_  want to be in a serious, romantic relationship with  _Jace Herondale._

Someone down the bar calls her over for a re-fill, so she tears herself away from any thoughts involving her soon-to-be-ex-fuck-buddy to tend to the customers. She makes the usual rounds and serves everyone a new shot- everyone except for that asshat who kept laughing at her, of course.

Then the bell above the door rings for the fiftieth time that night, and like clockwork, Maia forgets how to breathe once again. She hates herself for it, and she hates Jace a little too for making her feel like this. 

_It’s not him_ , she mutters to herself over and over in her head, her heart jumping up and lodging itself in her throat. She swallows it back down, because it’s all she can do to keep herself from choking.

Fate has a cruel way of messing with her. She realized this a long time ago, but right now, standing behind the counter while Jace stops in the doorway confirms it.

He looks dead on his feet. Tired. He’s covered from head-to-toe in what she can only assume is blood. She prays it isn’t his own. His leather jacket has a few noticeable rips along the edges. It’s his favorite one, too. 

The big bundle of red roses that are tucked underneath his arm don’t go unnoticed, and she feels like the world’s biggest asshole for accusing him of sleeping with everyone in Brooklyn, when he was so clearly just on a mission.

Oh man, was she  _that girl_  after all?

When he flashes her that crooked smile of his, she starts to think that she is, because it’s only then that she remembers how to breathe.

“Whoa, whoa!” She says once he finally steps up to the bar, voice dripping with her usual sarcasm. She doesn’t want him to know that he’s the reason she’s been stressing, so she forces a grin of her own onto her face, and busies herself with cleaning a puddle of spilled vodka. “Look at Mr. Popular with all the roses! Making rounds to your bookclub?”

Her jaw clenches at how jealous she sounded just then.

Who gets to decide that it’s okay for someone like Jace to give her butterflies?

He’s all teeth and satisfaction by the time she looks up at him, and she arches a brow in his direction. She pretends not to notice the way he darts his tongue out to wet his lips.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? We disbanded due to pushy bartenders spitting in our drinks,” he quips, his voice a velvet rope wrapping around her, and pulling her deeper into whatever sin the two of them were already trapped in.

“Yeah? Must have missed your newsletter,” she snorts, before tossing a towel over her shoulder. It was the right thing to say, because Jace’s smile grows even wider.

“Sorry for not calling you,” he says suddenly, the sincerity in his words hitting Maia like a train going full speed down the track. He carefully places the roses in front of her, but she’s too focused on her feelings to really say anything. “I wanted to… but I forgot my phone at the Institute.”

She presses her elbows into the smooth surface below them, reaching out to play with the petals on one of the flowers. She wants to laugh at that, or maybe even crack a joke,  _because she was worried over nothing._

But the flowers are too pretty, and Jace is looking at her with what she could only describe as unguarded adoration. The roses are red, and red is a romantic color, and now she wants to kiss him silly-  _God does she want to kiss him-_

“These are for me?” she answers with instead. Her voice is too soft, even to her own ears, but It doesn’t seem to bother Jace in the slightest. His lips simply curve up into another smile, despite her open vulnerability.

“Well I didn’t get them for Bat, that’s for sure,” he jokes, offering a sheepish shrug as an afterthought. That’s when she realizes that he’s being vulnerable too, because he sounds genuinely nervous when he adds in, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Everything that happens next is too fast. A blur of heat one moment, then they’re pressed together the next, nothing but the counter keeping them from morphing into one another.

Maia’s hands wrap around the fabric on Jace’s chest, and he grips her arm in return, pulling, and pushing, and pulling, and  _pushing_  until their lips are crushed  in a messy tangle of tongues and spit.

She feels Jace’s laugh vibrate through his chest, and she can’t help but join him.

When she pulls away, Jace is flushed, panting around an open smile. She decides right then and there that maybe,  _just maybe_ , a relationship with him wouldn’t be so bad.

“Missed you too,” he breathes out, looking at her as if she had  personally hung the moon in the sky just for him. A little part of her wishes that she did.

“C’mon, Blondie,” She laughs, still holding onto the collar of his shirt. “Walk me home, won’t you? I’ll get Bat to cover my shift. We have  _got_  to get you a bath.”

**Author's Note:**

> https://submissivejace.tumblr.com/post/176164730550/send-me-any-shadowhunters-ship-and-ill-write
> 
> send me ships if you want (':


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